


Blame the shirt... And the arms, the collarbones, the eyes, the shoulders... Blame Jos, actually.

by j_obsessed



Series: NSFW... approach with caution (or a lust for cricketers) [2]
Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Cute, Dating, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Kitchen Sex, Love Bites, M/M, Making Out, Marking, Oral Sex, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_obsessed/pseuds/j_obsessed
Summary: Uh. Well. It's cute. And then it's nasty. And then it's cute again...Enjoy ;)
Relationships: Jos Buttler/Joe Root
Series: NSFW... approach with caution (or a lust for cricketers) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887832
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	Blame the shirt... And the arms, the collarbones, the eyes, the shoulders... Blame Jos, actually.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no explanation for this. Just that. There aren't enough fics of these two that involve them uh... well... you'll see 😁 If you're not about it, don't read, there's plenty of SFW content if that's your style <3

**

Joe looks so so beautiful under the street lights, and Jos really really wants to kiss him _so so bad_.

Jos’ stunned that he even managed to get the younger to go out on a date with him- let alone _three_ , let alone entertain any ideas about _kissing_ him. It’s a commonly entertained thought actually. Which usually, leads to other… more _intense_ thoughts. Very pleasurable thoughts… But we are not going to talk about that. They reach Joe’s apartment, and Jos stutters quietly. “I- I forgot to tell you how stunning you were, um- are, tonight, I was just kind of distracted because you really are just so-”

Joe doesn’t let him finish, and stands up on his tiptoes to place a light peck on his cheek, smiling against the skin softly.

Jos is momentarily mute but manages to finish his sentence with a breathy “ _gorgeous,_ ” as the younger ducks his head at the praise.

The keeper knows he’s smiling a bit too brightly, so he bites his lower lip in an attempt to mask his utter delight. He runs his tongue over it, grimacing at the chapped skin. It’s cold outside, a soft breeze hanging in the air, and he isn’t wearing chapstick.

_He really hopes Joe doesn’t mind._

And then he has to scold himself _again_ because there’s no guarantee that they’re doing any sort of activity that requires their lips to be touching. Or even be near each other. His hand drifts up to the shorter man’s arm, almost tentatively asking, deciphering if it was okay, just to _touch_.

Joe rolls his eyes. Jos drops his hand immediately. The younger looks up at him with a mixture of endearment and exasperation.

“Jos you really are something, you know that?” he teases. “I just leaned up to kiss you, but you turned, and I _somehow_ caught your cheek. You’ve taken me out on three dates now. _Three_. I’ve known you almost all my goddamn life. I’ve been undressing you with my eyes since you showed up wearing _that_ shirt.”

Jos silently thanks Morgs for throwing it at him, in his pre-date panic of ‘what the fuck do I wear that will make him jump me.’ Joe’s hand flits lightly across the neckline of the navy tee, which drops down past the dip between the wicketkeeper’s collarbones, exposing just enough to make him want _more._ Jos almost smirks, because Joe has always been a sucker for collarbones. He’s caught the younger staring at them, multiple times, tonight alone. The smaller blonde’s fingers trace a path to the sleeves, which cut off (rather tightly, this shirt must be a size too small… _thank you Morgs…_ ) just above the curvature of his bicep. They then follow the line of the muscle sensually, and Jos can’t help the arrogant grin on his face when it seems Joe’s forgotten what he was saying.

Joe coughs before snapping himself out of it, finally continuing his train of thought. “And you, mister, have been staring at my ass all night. Surely, you have to know that this is okay,” Joe suggests, playful tone to his voice, but eyes smiling in a way that could light up the whole of London after dark. Jos blushes at being caught. He couldn’t exactly help himself, the younger looks _really good_ in ripped jeans, and the fact that he is wearing Jos’ hoodie did not help in the slightest.

_God, he’s so fucking b e a u t i f u l. Jos wants to bite him and fuck him and-_

“Shit, was I that obvious,” Jos laughs. Joe just grins happily.

“Now I know for sure.”

There’s a minute of them, just staring into the other’s eyes. Blue meets bluer blue. It’s so cliched and rom-com-esque, but neither of them can bear to turn away.

“Does this mean I didn't scare you away?” Jos asks softly, breath hitching as he leans closer, brushing their noses together. As an answer, Joe reaches for the collar of his shirt again, this time, finally, _finally_ pulling him down into a long-awaited kiss. A real one. Lips brushing together as Jos’ hands slowly make their way to Joe’s waist, bringing the younger boy’s lithe body closer, so that he is pressed against the blonde’s broad chest. Joe wraps his arms around Jos’ shoulders, completely eliminating the remaining space between them.

They’re kissing softly _(for now)_ , under a blanket of stars and the moonlight, at 11 pm on a Thursday night. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Joe thinks that maybe, if this is what falling in love is like, it’s worth the hype. He can practically hear Morgs laughing about what a sap he’s being. (Especially after Joe had ~~fake~~ gagged at the gingers (Eoin and Ben) when he caught them making out, _intensely_ , after the world cup final. He also remembers throwing a shoe at Ben when the taller ginger had suggested he go do _that_ on Jos’ dick. Jos asked him out that night. Joe threw himself into his arms. Now they’re here. Three dates later. Making out on Joe’s front porch.)

Jos has to keep his hands from reaching, tugging at Joe’s hair. He’s a few seconds from shoving the younger man against his door with a thigh between his legs- if only to coax some pretty sounds from the shorter boy’s lips. But everything that falls from Joe's lips is pretty... His laugh, his voice, but how would his gasps and whimpers sound when- _JOSEPH BUTTLER. STOP THAT._

He pulls off, and he does it _quickly_ , because a) he doesn’t know if Joe wants that right now, or at all, and b) if he doesn’t pull away, he is actually going to end up fucking Joe against his front door. And while that scenario is certainly, _entertaining,_ he really doesn’t want to be arrested for public indecency tonight… Even though it’d probably (definitely) be _totally fucking worth it._

Pulling away hurts. It physically _hurts_. And Jos’ fingers twitch aggressively with the need to touch Joe again.

It’s only been a kiss. But Joe’s stare is dark and wanting and Jos lets himself embrace his rougher desires. He knows he’s looking at Joe like he wants to maul him. But Joe is looking at him like he’s _daring_ him to. He knows they can’t though, because Ben would probably not appreciate that, at least, not without some warning.

Jos’ phone rings and Joe calmly (he’s lying, his hands are shaking, and he can’t even stand straight) kisses Jos’ cheek and whispers a goodnight, opening his door, and trying to disappear quickly. Joe watches Jos’ hand flicker in return. He hasn’t even closed the door behind him, before coming to a quick realisation, that the lights are off, and Ben _isn’t home tonight._

_Ben. His roommate. Stokes. Isn’t home right now._

It doesn’t take long for Joe’s hands to find themselves buried in soft blonde hair, and for his lips to be tracing a faint trail down the taller man’s jaw to his neck, burying his face there. About 0.02 seconds, if we’re being precise. Because when Joe threw the door wide open (he had barely even closed it), Jos was still standing right there, with a small smile, touching his fingertips to his lips in some kind of daze. He hadn’t even answered the call. And now they’re making out on the front porch. Again.

_Fun._

Jos is breathing heavily against his lips when Joe pulls away for air. He’s met with a breathy laugh, as Joe rests his forehead against his. Jos smiles, and wishes Joe a good night and hurriedly walks back to his car. Hurriedly. Because if he doesn’t put some distance between them…

Joe looks awfully confused until he realises, he didn’t actually tell Jos they’re alone tonight. No, he kind of just, jumped into the boy’s arms and begged him to shove his tongue down his throat.

“Jos!” The wicketkeeper suddenly hears his name being called, and without even thinking, is ~~running~~ _walking_ back to him. Before he can think better of it, he’s pulled Joe back, flush to his body, and he’s holding his face in his hands, kissing him roughly in the middle of the front yard.

Joe’s mildly surprised, but returns the kiss fervently, gasping into the other boy’s mouth at the sheer _force_ of it.

He coughs, regaining his breath, and makes a quick decision to fuck with Jos a little. Just a little. Just because he can. He says; “I was going to say, don't you want your jacket back?” with the smuggest grin he can manage.

Jos looks like a deer caught in headlights, utterly embarrassed, flush high on his cheeks. “Um. Uh. Keep it. I-It looks better on you.” Joe has the decency to hide his smirk. Not really. He feels Jos’ eyes on him, and knows he’s watching him so that he can make sure Joe’s safe inside. God, he’s so fucking _sweet._ Once Jos is sure Joe is at his door, and safe, he turns away.

“Jos?” Joe calls him once again, peeping his head out from the door.

The sound makes him avert his gaze, and he turns away from his car door. He stays put this time though, only to hear; “can you come up here please?”

If they were anywhere but this dead quiet street at eleven-o-something in the night, Jos would’ve missed it.

Jos confused as ever, but always doing as Joe says, the precious thing, locks his car and steps under the awning of Joe’s _open_ front door. The lights are off. That’s odd. Ben should still be up by now, in fact, he should be getting all the details about Joe’s date… 

His phone buzzes yet _again_ , and he apologetically glances at Joe, and pulls it out to see a message from Eoin.

**23:14 _Short Ginger_**

_oi, since you aren’t answering your phone_

_i’m going to assume there’s a good reason since Joey isn’t answering either_

_benny is staying over, don’t come home._

_go home with Joe ;)_

Jos’ mouth drops open, and he stares at Joe. Joe beckons him to speak with expressive eyebrows. Jos has to use all his self-control not to lean over and kiss the younger’s forehead, but he manages. Just. “Uh, Ben is over at mine and Morg’s, so…”

“I knew that.”

“Oh.”

Joe is still staring at him. Unbeknown to Jos, Joe’s actually been staring since he left his car. His blonde hair looks like a beautiful halo under the street lights, and Joe is overwhelmed with an urge to throw himself into the boy’s muscular arms to kiss him again.

So he does. And Jos really can’t deny either of them anymore. They’ve been lusting after each other for god knows how long. (Ben and Morgs say give or take a good nine years…)

“Can I stay the night then? Will you have me in your bed?” Jos whispers, after pulling away to breathe, grinning into the fluffy hair currently tickling his face. Joe whimpers into the blonde’s chest when Jos’ hands skim up under his shirt and rake at his abdomen- they really need to control themselves, honestly, they’re still on the front porch. Before he can stop himself, he’s pulled Jos into him, slammed the door shut, flipped their positions, and backed himself up against the door.

“I want to take that as a yes” Jos mutters, before hooking a long, slender finger under his chin, and tonguing at his lip. “But I need a verbal answer, love.” He kisses the corner of Joe’s mouth softly, looks at him endearingly, and that just makes Joe want to be slammed against every wall in his house and _fucked within a half-inch of his fucking life_. 

Because every pure, sweet thing Jos does (especially when he’s this turned on- Jos doesn’t need to hide it, Joe already knows), is a testament to his _strength_. Joe’s known about Jos’ _interest_ in him for a while. Catches him staring on a regular basis. (He’s guilty of the exact same, but shut up.) They know each other very well, being childhood friends and that. Know what the other wants, and know what the other _needs_. He’s aware Jos is a bit of a… ~~rougher~~ ~~dirtier~~ ~~possessive~~ _passionate_ lover. So when he treats him like _this_ , like he’s worth being cherished, looked after, taken care of and _savoured_ , it’s really no surprise that Joe just wants him to do less of that and more of, well, everything that’s _not_ that. (It makes sense okay, shut the fuck up.)

“Yes. Stay the night. Please. We’ll make out, fuck, cuddle, make out some more, and then I’ll make you waffles in the morning if I can walk straight.” 

“If you can walk straight, that means I haven’t fucked you ‘within a half-inch of your life’, and that means I haven’t done my job, have I?” Jos quotes, laughing against his neck. Before Joe can realise that he’d gone and said _that particular thought from earlier_ out loud, he’s picked up effortlessly. His legs instinctively wrap around Jos’ trim waist as he’s pushed up roughly against the door. “Now, what was the first item on that list of yours sweetheart?” Joe can barely speak, because Jos has breathed that sentence out against the flesh of his neck, and his legs tighten intuitively in anticipation. 

“Ki- fuck you’re terrible- kiss me, god you’re so mean,” he gasps, as Jos sucks softly at a small patch of skin under his collarbone. Jos just hums in agreement. What a dick. 

“Nuh-uh baby, what was the first item to do?”

Joe rolls his eyes as best he can. “We’re supposed to be kissing, but you keep fucking tal-” Jos’ mouth closes over his collarbone, and Joe forgets how to English, because _fuck that feels good and if he’d just use his teeth-_

“Are you alright with me marking you, babe?” The question alone, breathed against his skin tantalisingly, in perfect timing, has Joe twisting his fingers in the blonde’s hair, keeping that mouth and its teeth close to his neck. He feels Jos’ teeth scrape ever so slightly against the column of his throat and lets his head fall back to hit the door. (Jos’ hand comes up to prevent that actually, and if Joe wasn’t currently being teased by the boy he’s wanted to jump since tenth grade, he’d marvel at how Jos has him held against the door. He’s got one hand around the back of Joe’s upper thigh in a possessive vice grip and is protectively holding the back of his head in his other hand, which, is impressive given how Joe is squirming and shivering in his arms.) But Joe really isn’t focusing right now, he’s busy having his neck abused in the _best_ of ways, and he’s busy writhing against Jos. So cut him some slack alright? 

“Hmmm, my bad love, I’m being so awful, so mean to my baby?” It’s really unfair how well Jos knows him. They’ve been _friends_ for so long, exchanged late night thoughts and fantasies, along with stories of unsatisfying lovers and where their exes have gone wrong. Jos knows exactly, precisely, what Joe wants and what gets him going. And calling him _his baby,_ is not even the start. It’s the little things he’s been doing, asking if he can mark him, tensing his biceps while holding him up, showing off his strength, flexing his fingers in _possession_.

_Fuck him._

_But also, can he fuck me? Like. Now._

Jos kisses over the dozen marks he’s laid all over his lover’s neck, before leaning in to kiss him. Except, he doesn’t. Not really anyway. He just _pecks_ him. A soft brush to the corner of his mouth. No lingering lip or tongue or anything. He even lets Joe down, onto his two feet. The literal _nerve_. “Okay, we kissed, now what’s next?” Joe widens his eyes in disbelief.

Jos looks utterly too satisfied with himself, a breath away from bursting into laughter, and Joe is honestly about to slap him. Or tackle him to the floor and ride him right there in the hallway. Maybe both. _Definitely_ the second one. By fucking god does he want to do that. He’s pouting, he knows he is, but Joe cannot help himself because he fucking _wants_ and he’s not _getting_. He’s the literal embodiment of >:( right now.

That must break Jos’ desire to be a dick, because there’s this cheeky, beautiful smile that makes its way onto his face. Suddenly Joe is being picked up, and his legs are around Jos’ waist again, but this time, he’s supported entirely by the muscles of the keeper’s arms. _Fuck._ “You said _kissing_ babe. We kissed. But is it possible, that you meant making out? Tongue down your throat and biting your lip and moaning into your mouth sort of thing?” His grin is absolutely ~~adorable~~ infuriating.

The absolute _nerve_ of this boy. The audacity he has. Joe rolls his eyes, catching his earlier error. “God you’re _insufferable_ you know that, honestly, so many people, you would not believe the number of people, would jump at the chance to kiss me and-”

The dig works, and he’s got what he wants. (If there’s any doubt about what that was; it’s Jos’ tongue in his mouth.) The rest of his sentence is scuffed into a moan, as Jos’ tongue flicks against his, and sharp canines plunge into his bottom lip.

Jos always was a possessive one. Always. It’s a wonder Joe’s ever had any boyfriends, because, without a doubt, Jos hated all of them. And probably scared them away... actually. ‘He’s not even that hot’, ‘he doesn’t even appreciate cricket’, ‘he’s so annoying what do you see in him’, ‘he sounds incredibly unsatisfying Joey, even I could do you better’. Not that Joe hasn’t absolutely despised every one of Jos’ exes too. But that’s not the point.

He’s placed gently on the kitchen counter, with Jos standing between his thighs, pressing against him. His hands possessively tucked around his waist, stroking the skin of his hip _just the way he likes it_. “No one else gets to kiss you ever again.”

The stare he receives is utterly heated, _determined_ , and Joe smirks. “Is that so?”

Jos’ fingers flex against his skin. “Yes. Just me. No one else. Ever.”

Joe chuckles softly, running his fingers placatingly over Jos’ jaw. “Just you.”

Jos smiles triumphantly. “And don’t worry, even if you can’t, I remember your list perfectly. First step making out, second step fucking you into your mattress, third step cuddles, fourth step making out. And the final step is _me_ making _you_ waffles tomorrow because you’re so well-fucked that you can’t even stand, let alone walk.”

Joe keens into his hips, arching his back almost painfully because Jos talking dirty is not something he ever imagined happening. ~~That’s a lie it’s been a consistent feature in his dreams since before they were even dating.~~

But now that it _is happening_ Joe doesn’t know how to fucking function.

The keeper is nosing at Joe’s neck, dragging teeth across his shoulder, and pressing fingers into his flesh. His cologne is suffocating Joe to the point where he can’t think about anything but the wicketkeeper currently marking up his skin.

And why would he ever want to, really?

“Sound right baby? Content with my memory of your list? Or maybe you’d prefer me fucking you over the kitchen counter?” Joe whimpers against his best efforts and tugs Jos’ hair until the taller blonde obliges him with another rough kiss. _Seriously, what the fuck._

“K-kitchen counter is good. Really good. God, please shut the fuck up. Or keep talking fuck-.” He’s barely gasped the words out before he’s gone slack-jawed again- this time, because Jos has stripped himself of his shirt and Joe is having some fucking difficulty _breathing_. Joe was having trouble when Jos had his shirt _on._ What’s he going to do _now?_ It’s not like he’s never seen the keeper shirtless. He has. But this is different. Because he’s allowed to _stare,_ and _touch,_ and because that body will be on his body, and the thought makes him go weak.

Jos just stares smugly; knows he’s got this mapped out absolutely flawlessly. Knows Joe too well for this to be anything but _really really fucking good._ He’s not entirely unaffected though, because Joe always looks so unbelievably gorgeous, with blue eyes and messy hair and prominent collarbones and a little stubble that frames his beautiful face. They end up eye-fucking for almost a whole minute. 

It doesn’t last much longer than that though, because Joe manages to tug Jos back to him. The keeper’s hand runs down the outer side of his thigh, slowly bringing him further toward the edge of the counter. Their bodies fit so perfectly together; Joe needs a minute just to take in what this feels like.

His hands itch to find purchase on the keeper’s biceps, now that they’re _bare,_ and he really needs to get a grip (not on Jos’ biceps, although, now that he thinks about it… definitely on those too) because _shit Jos is really fucking hot._ Those hands skim up his sides, catching lightly against his shirt, and he can feel him whisper something against his neck.

“Hm? What?” The words come out dreamily, Joe already far too gone to formulate any logical conversation that doesn’t involve the words ‘fuck’ ‘me’ ‘into’ ‘the’ ‘counter’ or ‘harder’, ‘more’ and ‘Jos’.

Jos repeats himself, chuckling slightly, “Baby, focus for me, take your shirt off.” He’s still kissing and biting at his neck, letting his fingers run all over, committing every curve to memory, which, really isn’t helping Joe’s focus in the slightest. “Unless you’ll let me? Can I? Please?” Joe just nods mindlessly, raising his hands. Jos slowly drags the cloth up, letting his fingers skim across Joe’s hipbones, obliques, abdomen, sternum and chest, goosebumps rising in their wake. It’s discarded somewhere, neither of them seems to care all that much. He places his hands over the smaller blonde’s thighs again, as he leans forward to catch his lips. Joe’s hands involuntarily make their way to the keeper’s back, as he ghosts them over the sharp juts of prominent shoulderblades. He drags his nails down the muscular expanse of flesh experimentally.

Jos groans into his mouth, and Joe almost _dies._ The younger feels strong slender fingers hold him in place, as soft kisses are placed down his body, from the column of his throat, across his left collarbone and back, against his sternum, trailing down his abdomen, before Jos’ teeth graze lightly against the waistband of his jeans. Joe lifts his hips without being asked, so the keeper can tug the rest of the obstructing material off him.

“ _Fuck_.”

“What?” _Hopefully me…_

“You look even better with them _off_.” Jos’ hands map out the expanse of his body, and Joe is falling apart. He has to brace himself with his hands behind him, as Jos starts sucking marks into his hipbones. His head is tipped back, fingers gripping the back edge of the counter, as Jos finally takes some pity on him, and tongues around his length.

“ _No_.”

“That’s a first.” Jos breathes against him, and Joe is losing his mind.

“Shut the fuck- _oh my god-_ up- _Jos please-_ if you do that right now, you won’t get a chance to fuck me.”

“Doubting that I can make you come twice?”

Joe’s jaw drops. Jos smirks, before he slowly, _agonisingly_ slowly, takes Joe into his throat.

_Jesus fucking Christ._

Jos moans around him, and one of Joe’s hands flies to the blonde’s hair, tugging harshly. He’s unflinching, groans against Joe’s skin, and the younger can _feel_ the sound more than he can hear it, the vibrations doing absolutely sinful things. Jos does this thing with his tongue, dragging it over him expertly, and Joe is tugging him up by his hair because he cannot speak to save his life. They kiss sweetly for a few moments, until the younger has somewhat got his breathing back. But it’s not long before Jos is escaping his grip and returning to his earlier position. He looks up at the younger, who is once again struggling to hold himself together, before taking him into his throat again, swallowing around him, unrelenting in his attention with his tongue, until Joe’s completely overtaken by the pleasure, knuckles turning white, mouth open in a silent scream.

Jos stands up, and the younger tucks his head against the keeper’s chest, breathing heavily. A minute later; “Fuck. Why haven’t we been doing that for longer?”

Jos grins smugly. “Satisfied then?” The sheer arrogance (even though it is absolutely, totally, completely justified) makes Joe want to get on his knees right the fuck now. For the sole reason of wiping that expression off Jos’ face. And also because, well, he wants Jos to fuck his throat. But the wicketkeeper seems to have other plans, as he tugs Joe forward, and turns him around, pressing him against the counter. He sucks a mark into the younger’s skin, just above the top of his shoulderblade, and just on the border of where the collar of his shirt would sit. He drags his tongue up the side of the boy’s neck, nails raking across his obliques. Joe falls forward into the counter, absolutely _undone_.

“Baby are you sure-”

“I fucking swear to everything good in this world if you don’t fuck me right now-”

“Baby I don’t want to hurt you-”

“Jos. The front pocket of my jeans. Now.”

The wicketkeeper’s eyebrow raises in surprise as he fishes out… _supplies_.

“Exactly how lucky did you think you were going to get tonight sweetheart?”

“You’re the one who showed up wearing that shirt Jos, don't you start.”

“Sure baby, blame it on that.” Jos coats his fingers, while _verbally_ teasing his increasingly frustrated partner. 

"I blame you. Your fucking eyes and your arms and your collarbones and your shoulders and your hands and your fingers- I’m not fucking around if you don’t get your fingers in me right this instant-”

Jos runs a finger against his rim, and Joe’s complaint is cut short. “Demanding, aren’t you angel? What exactly were you going to do? You’re not in a position to do anything, but take what I give you.” Slowly, he can feel Jos’ finger push against the muscle. He gasps against the cold marble surface.

Jos, literally, has him wrapped around his fucking finger. A long, ridged, slender, perfect finger. Another joins, his body giving in easily to the intrusion. Joe turns his face back to glance at Jos, who’s staring at him, biting his lip as he fucks his fingers in _faster._

Joe knows that Jos is messing with him, because twice, he’s managed to rub up against _exactly where he needs it,_ and then been incredibly off par for the next few movements. He knows Jos too well, to believe that it’s some amateur move, or that the older boy doesn’t know what he’s doing, or that he’s simply unfocused. No. That’s not Jos, and that’s not how Jos would treat this particular task.

It still feels fucking _good_ , better than anything he’s ever had, probably because it’s _Jos,_ but he needs more. He’s tipping between just enough pleasure and not nearly enough pleasure, and it’s driving him insane.

After a few moments (it seems like fucking _hours)_ when Jos is more than sure that the younger is ready, he stops the movement of his fingers. Just as Joe probably thought he was finally going to get some reprieve, the older boy curls his fingers upwards suddenly, flexing them hard, just perfectly, that Joe’s thought from earlier is validated. He can feel the bones and the ligaments of the fingers tighten, go rigidly _hard_ inside him.

Jos knows exactly what he’s doing. A broken cry of the older boy’s name rings through the open space, and the younger’s hips fuck backwards roughly to push against Jos’ fingers. “Fuck. Me. Now.”

“I _am_ fucking you.” Jos’ voice sounds wrecked. Joe sobs in frustration. “And you look fucking _captivating_ on my fingers darling, I could watch you like this _forever_.”

Joe’s mouth falls open, but he can’t formulate any coherent thought into speech, just chokes out broken gasps of Jos’ name.

The keeper eases his fingers away, opting to grind up against him, entwining their fingers as he presses into him slowly. Joe is waiting, for Jos to move, to do something, anything. But he won’t. It’s torture. And _fuck_ it’s so so good. Because he’s so full, and he feels so fucking _taken_. He involuntarily tightens his muscles, and a broken ‘oh my fucking god’ falls out of Jos’ mouth.

He starts a slow pace, something that Joe can take easily, almost giving him the control. _Almost._ But not entirely. He enjoys that. Loves the feeling of having it held in front of him, only to be snatched away at the last second. Jos’ fingers grip at Joe’s hips a little tighter, and Joe’s breath hitches in anticipation.

“Are you alright sweetheart?” Jos stops moving entirely. Joe just about cries.

“I _swear_ , if you don’t fuck me right now-” He chooses his next words with full knowledge of the hell they’re going to initiate. “I _will_ find someone else to do it.”

He doesn’t mean that, and he knows that Jos knows that.

But it doesn’t stop Jos from slamming into him possessively, the younger’s hips making bruising contact with the marble. “ _Fuck. Fuck, yes like that.”_

“Someone else? Who else is going to fuck you like this?”

Joe muffles another cry into his hand, because Jos has stopped fucking moving again and he’s dying with _need-_

“I asked you something angel.”

“ _Fuck_ \- no one, just _you,_ I promise, I’m _sorry_ -” He feels a kiss pressed between his shoulderblades before all the contact disappears.

“Good answer.”

Jos doesn’t disappoint. The kitchen echoes with the sound of skin on skin, and it sounds hot, and it sounds _wet,_ and it sounds filthy and neither of them last much longer after that, Jos’ teasing riling both of them up much further than necessary.

“Jos- fucking- _harder, come on, please, you know what I want-”_

Jos’ hand claws at Joe’s waist, nails indenting the edges of his abdominal muscles with a groan of his name. “You look so hot when you’re getting fucked sweetheart. Like you were _made_ for it.”

Joe cries out as Jos’ rhythm finally falters, pushing them both over the edge.

Thank god for the kitchen counter, because they’d both end up sprawled across the tiles.

***

**8:23 Short Ginger to ‘boyfriends 2’**

_i hope you didn’t go breaking my best batsman Joseph Buttler_

Jos grins when he sees the text, almost four hours after it was sent. They had a long night okay, it is to be excused. Joe looks over from his spot on Jos’ shoulder to see what his boyfriend is grinning about. He rolls his eyes and reaches for his own phone.

**12:06 Tiny Blonde**

_hiiiiiii!_

_it’s me!_

_your very best batsman :’)_

_although maybe not for the next few days seeing as I can’t stand…_

**12:10 Short Ginger**

_goddamnit jos_

_was it the shirt_

**12:10 Tiny Blonde**

_yep._

_and jos in general because_

_yeah_

**12:10 Short Ginger**

_fucking told you jos_

_still, no need to go jeopardising my teammates batting ability_

**12:10 Average Blonde**

_i-_

_… sorry?_

_not really tho_

Jos is typing out ‘ _joey looks really fucking good when he’s-’_ before the phone is yanked out of his hand by a very flushed young batsman. However, in that scuffle, Joe somehow managed to hit the send button. Jos laughs softly at his boyfriend’s blushing face, before leaning up to kiss him. The younger returns the kiss happily. 

**12:11 Taller Ginger**

_yeeesssssss get some joeyyy_

_well done Buttler_

_bout fuckin time_

**12:11 Shorter Ginger**

_Benjamin Stokes >:(_

**12:12 Taller Ginger**

_babe, they’ll finally actually be able to focus in training_

_imagine how good they’ll be now_

**12:13 Average Blonde**

_shut up benny, joey can’t get any better, it’s basically impossible_

_he's perfect_

**12:14 Tiny Blonde**

_awwwwwwwwwwwwwww babeeee_

_i adore you_

**12:14 Average Blonde**

_i adore you more angel_

**12:14 Shorter Ginger**

_i’m sorry is this the same person who almost threw up_

_when I was kissing my lovely boyfriend after the world cup_

**12:14 Tiny Blonde**

_joseph charles buttler._

_you know what happens when you call me that_

_morgs u were literally fucking ben’s mouth with your tongue shut up_

**12:15 Taller Ginger**

_hmmm good times_

_wait what_

_what happens_

_actually no_

**12:15 Average Blonde**

_i fuck him within a half-inch of his life_

**12:15 Taller Ginger**

_don’t say it_

_fuck dammnit_

_i didn’t need to hear that_

**12:15 Tiny Blonde**

_i think you mean read that_

**12:16 Average Blonde**

_you asked ;)_

Joe leans over to place a kiss against Jos’ somehow unmarked collarbone. He frowns. _Well. That won’t do._ He sucks at the skin roughly, grazing his teeth over the flesh, leaving a slowly blooming bruise, while running his fingers across the other protruding bone. Jos moans softly, tugging him up to meet his lips, but Joe pulls away for a moment, leaving the wicketkeeper pouting unhappily.

He holds up a finger, and picks up his phone.

**12:19 Tiny Blonde**

_ok enough texting_

_benny… don’t come home for a few hours_

**12:19 Taller Ginger**

_god save us all_

**12:19 Shorter Ginger**

_amen._

_actually… I’m okay with this_

_fuck_

_definitely okay with this_


End file.
